


Exceptionally Small Categories

by xannish



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xannish/pseuds/xannish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-game, contains major spoilers.</p><p>Duke's peaceful day is interrupted by an unexpected visitor, and he's forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about being human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exceptionally Small Categories

Duke sat at his kitchen table and savored the calm. All the windows in his cabin were open, inviting in a spring breeze which carried the sounds of birdsong, the scents of flowers and green leaves and soil still damp from yesterday’s rain. It was getting warm during the day now, but there was still enough of a chill in the morning that hot tea was much welcome, and he had the last cup from his kettle still warming his fingers. He was running low on his favorite tea, and with mild annoyance he added that to his mental list of things he would need to ask for the next time he ventured into town. If he had his choice, he would never have to descend to the noise and chaos of human settlement at all.

He had almost everything he needed, here. He hunted in the forest and gathered wild fruit, mushrooms, and nuts. In his garden, he had herbs, vegetables and corn. Four chickens kept him supplied with eggs, and he had a nanny goat for milk, though her udders were beginning to dry up, and he would need to either take her to a farm down the mountain to be bred or else buy a billy himself. Which, he had to admit, would disturb some of the calm. Maybe he didn’t need milk at all. He had cut down on his use of flour and salt, learned to use honey and the juice of sweet fruits instead of sugar. Maybe he could forgo all of those civilized staples entirely and live off of what the forest gave him. The thought appealed.

Thanks to Yuri Lowell, humanity had been spared, but he still bore no love for the human race. Perhaps the Entelexeia in their wisdom could forgive and submit. He did not find it so easy.

“Hey old man, this what you do all day? Just sit around and stare off into space?”

At the first sound of a human voice, Duke was on his feet, reaching for a sword he no longer carried every day. No one should have been able to sneak up on him like that. But of course, Yuri Lowell wasn’t just anyone.

Yuri leaned in the window, a cocky smirk on his youthful face, one eyebrow raised. 

Duke regained his composure, lifted his chin. “I did not know that I should have been expecting you.”

Yuri shrugged. “Can’t I drop in on an old friend?”

“You can,” Duke allowed, “but I would prefer that you use the door.”

“Yeah. Repede can’t climb in through here anyway.”

Yuri disappeared from the window, and Duke crossed the kitchen to unlock the door. He was greeted first not by Yuri but by Repede, Yuri’s canine companion. Duke was never quite sure just how intelligent Repede was—there was a spark of something in the dog’s eyes that reminded him more of the animal-shaped Entelexeia than of someone’s house pet, but as no one seemed to remark upon it, Duke simply tried to treat Repede as respectfully as he would any guest in his house.

“Please come in,” he said to human and dog alike, as he offered Repede a hand. 

Repede sniffed him, then gave his hand an approving lick and trotted past him into the cabin, where he turned in a circle and flopped down on the braided rug by the hearth. Yuri wasn’t quite so easily appeased, and leaned on the doorframe, his eyes fixed on Duke.

“Some people wonder where you ran off to,” Yuri said casually.

“I appreciate you not telling them.”

“Yeah. I bet. So tell me, is this retirement, or is it exile? Either way, I’m not sure you’ve earned it.”

“I don’t require your judgment.”

“Yeah, well I guess I’m offering it anyway. Friend to friend.” There was a sharpness in his eyes and voice, that edge of almost-cruelty that had first told Duke that he might have had the spine needed to make tough decisions others would not understand, that he, of all people, might be able to shoulder the burden that Duke himself could not. It hadn’t gone as planned, but it wasn’t due to any lack of spine—or over-abundance of pity—on Yuri’s part.

“Is that what you came for? To berate me and question me in my home?”

“Yeah. Partly.” Yuri finally slipped into the cabin, turning so that his body pressed very close to Duke’s for a moment. “Among other reasons.” He tilted his head, spilling dark hair over his shoulder. “You complaining?”

“No,” Duke answered after a moment’s pause. “It has… been some time since I had anyone to talk to, judgmental or not.”

“Whose fault is that?” Yuri asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He sat down on the edge of Duke’s neatly-made bed. Repede didn’t even look up from where his head rested on his paws. Only his eyes followed the humans around the room.

“My own, and by my own choice… though I will allow that not all conversation is unpleasant.”

“’Not unpleasant.’ Gee, thanks.” Yuri’s lips twisted in a fake grimace. “It is a nice place you’ve got here, though. I don’t blame you not wanting to share it.” He leaned back on his arms and closed his eyes. 

“It is not that. I prefer the solitude.”

“Heh. You prefer the solitude, or you just hate most people?” Yuri opened one eye, a knowing smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth.

Duke did not answer, instead looked away, out the window. Little brightly-colored birds were fluttering between the bushes outside, squabbling over food or mates. He again wished that human interactions were simple, instinctual. Society complicated things. Being human complicated things. The need for companionship. The way his heart betrayed him, opening to these people the way that it hadn’t since…

Since Elucifer. Since his truest companion, the one who had stood against the world with him. The one who humanity had betrayed. But Elucifer had forgiven them, even then.

“Duke.” Yuri’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “You’re doing it again. I don’t know if you remember, but when there’s another person in the room, you generally have to speak your thoughts out loud. I can’t read your mind.”

“I apologize.” Duke turned back. “It is… difficult for me to reverse old thoughts. You may believe that the future is bright, but …”

“You’ve got your doubts. Yeah. Me too. But I believe humanity should have a shot.”

“Perhaps.”

“And hey, know what? It’s for selfish reasons. I don’t want to roll over and die. I want a life, and not just for me. For the people I care about, too, because I like having them around. And lucky you, you’re included in that category.”

It took a moment for the meaning of Yuri’s casually-spoken words to sink in. “You are… included in that category for me, as well.”

“Must be a pretty small category.” Yuri smirked. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

Duke walked over and took a seat next to Yuri on the bed, looking down at his hands. “An exceptionally small category,” he agreed.

He turned, then, and looked Yuri in the eyes, voice turning from soft to commanding. “Why have you really come, Yuri Lowell? What are you looking for here?”

Yuri looked startled by his change in demeanor, and before he could formulate a smart-ass reply, Duke’s hand was tilting his chin up, peering into his face as if he could see the true emotions beneath the bravado. And perhaps he did. Perhaps there were very few people who could Yuri Lowell for what he really was, dark and light. Perhaps there were fewer still who would take it all without judgment. An exceptionally small category.

“You,” Yuri answered simply. “Whether you come back with me or not, I wanted to see you.”

Duke smiled, and slid his hand around to tangle in Yuri’s hair, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Perhaps humans were worth something after all.


End file.
